Free Fall For All
by Elisabeth Harker
Summary: This story is whatever you want it to be.
1. Chapter 1

The fic:

Here's the deal: This story can be anything you want it to be. Each chapter will be a different one-shot story for Little Women. You say what you want me to write about, and I'll do it. All characters from all three books in the Little Women series are open, and any situation, no matter how bizarre or outside my usual comfort zone. I can also put in spin-offs and sequel bits for any fic that I've currently **completed (With the exception of 7 Unlived Stories for Beth March. For the couple of weeks or so anyway, but I'll probably open that one up later.)**. With any luck, this can be some fun for all involved.

And, since I feel bad posting something like this without offering a fic, I'll start by posting a little bit of Jo and Laurie's incredibly AU married life, since everyone always asks me to write about the two of them being happily married, and I never do.

.;.;.;.;.;.;

Jo had been looking forward to Amy's visit for weeks. She had often heard it said that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and it seemed in this case that time had proven the idiom true. Something about Amy staying in England with her husband Fred for years on end, while Jo spent the majority of her time in Concord with her own husband made it easy for Jo to forget the way Amy's prim little habits had once driver her up the wall, and make her long only to see all of her family together once more.

"You did say it was Amy coming today, didn't you Jo?" Laurie asked, his voice muffled in a way that made Jo smile. His head was beneath the couch, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness there, he could just make out the forest of dust-bunnies that he had been sent, like a domestic knight in shining armor, to vanquish.

"Yes, by eight o'clock," said Jo. She was busy rearranging a certain well-loved and chaotic bookshelf, having taken crucial matters into her own hands, while giving Laurie the drudgery.

"Right, eight o'clock. And it's definitely _Amy_."

Jo stopped what she was doing, and sat down on the couch, right above Laurie's protruding legs.

"Yes…" he said slowly, feeling strangely as if she were talking to his feet.

"And by Amy, you mean your sister, Amy Vaughn, formally Amy March, who used to paint her shoes to match her dresses, has a penchant for all things artistic, and once threw your story into the fire in a fit of spite?"

She gave him a good rap on the thigh, rather enjoying his surprise, for he hadn't been able to see it coming.

"Don't remind me, I was such a beast to her after that - but hurry up and tell me what you're on about."

Laurie slid out for under the couch, brandishing his feather-duster rather close to her face as he sat up to look at her.

"Well, with all the cleaning you're making me do, you'd think we're preparing for the arrival of the queen. Do you really think Amy is likely to look under our couch? From the state of it, clearly we've managed to go several years without doing so."

Jo snorted, for she was imagining Amy dressed in royal finery, and finding it quite easy, all things considered.

"Honestly, I was just trying to get you out of the way," Jo said. "I do want to give her a reasonably nice homecoming, and how am I to get anything ready with you hanging off me constantly?"

"She and Fred are going to be staying with us for the next month," Laurie pointed out, running his hand down her calf, for it was temptingly close to him just then. "And if I am to only have another few hours with you all to myself, you can hardly blame me for taking them."

"When whatever we've got growing under the sofa comes to life and takes a bite out of Amy's dainty shoes, I _will _blame you," Jo warned.

Laurie could hear the laughter in her voice, and thinking it a good omen, kept his mouth shut and looked up at her with her most winning expression. Jo sighed, as if quite exasperated.

"What time is it?" She asked.

"I'd say it's about noon." He reached for her arm, and did his best to tug her to the floor beside him.

"You could just come up here, you know," Jo pointed out, for when she did not immediately follow his lead, Laurie made as if he would wrestle her to the floor.

"Thank you," he said, with her characteristic eagerness, "I think that I will."

His arm around her and a few kisses down her neck settled the matter.

.


	2. murder

Notes: This one is for Mariagoner, who requested a story in which Jo and Laurie solve a murder mystery together.

;;;

Jo lay on her stomach on the rough floor of the attic, a book spread out in front of her, and Laurie lying next to her in the same position. They were alternating reading aloud, each using a variety of character voices in hopes of making the other laugh. At the moment Laurie had the upper hand, for he was reciting a grand and mysterious death scene with a dramatic flair that had Jo in stitches.

"Give me that," She said, snatching the book from him just before he could get to the last sentence. "And now," she continued, ghosting her finger over the words as she read, "gentle readers, I shall leave you with this question to eat away at your hearts and souls - whose hands hath the blood of our poor Rosamond bestained?"

With that she shut the book and pushed herself up rather ungracefully into a sitting position.

"Huh. That wasn't much of a story, was it?" Jo said.

"Not really, but it was a nice enough way to spend the afternoon," said Laurie, who had been far more interested in the company than the story anyway.

"A way to waste it, you mean. But no matter. At least it gives me a good idea of my competition."

This Jo said with a business like air, for she had published her first story a mere few days before, and was already bursting with the desire to sell her work for money, and make a proper business out of it.

"Hope you don't plan to start imitating this sort of stuff. It's good for a laugh, but I like your kind of stories better."

Jo frowned at the compliment, though Laurie had tried his very best to disguise it as a lecture.

"I don't want to imitate anything, but as I'm no Dickens or Thackeray, I have to content myself that this -" she paused to wave the book significantly "- is what I'm up against, at least for now. I believe the fellow who wrote this got paid for his efforts."

Laurie snatched the book from her, opening again to the last page.

"Who do you think did kill Rosamond?" He asked.

"I don't think she's dead. It wouldn't do good to kill off the heroine of the story."

"Unless it's the second to last installment."

Jo shrugged. "I don't know that I'll read the next one, so as far as I'm concerned, she's still alive whether she rises from the grave next week or not."

With that she stood, pulling Laurie up with her.

"Where are you off to now?"

"Outside to find some apples. Thay've just started to fall, you know. Aren't you hungry at all?"

With that they both left the room, Jo satisfied that she'd solved a murder mystery, and Laurie satisfied that he had Jo's company for the rest of the afternoon.


	3. Toothache

And here's story number two - A toothache for Rese, who apparently enjoys inflicting pain upon Jo (but don't we all?).. The exact prompt was: **... how about jo really does go to get a tooth pulled out and laurie bumps into her like he does when she goes to get her story published?**

*;;;;;;*

Jo sat in the chair of the dentist's office watching nervously as he rummaged through his drawer for the correct tools. The man was a jack of all trades and as such he had a vast assortment of scissors, blades, combs, pliers and picks, intended to cut hair and shave beards as well as taking care of whatever was wrong with Jo's tooth.

Jo did not want Marmee to fund this venture. It seemed to her that this confounded toothache of hers had come about at the worst possible time, with Father far away at war, and money tight as it was. Jo had successfully ignored it for a good five weeks, but it was beginning to keep her up at night, and certainly it had a bad effect on her already formidable temper. Thus she'd struck upon the sudden inspiration that she would put an end to it on her own, and with her own money from working for Aunt March.

"Don't you want somebody here to tend you after, miss?" asked the dentist.

"My home's close by. I can make it there myself." said Jo, with forced confidence.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Just do it,"

The man shrugged. Money was money, after all.

Jo had seen such operations performed before, and knew that they could be done very quickly. Jo's tooth, it seemed, had other ideas, and it was only after quite a bit of yanking that it consented to come out. The sound of her hard tooth cracking free of her jaw rang in her ears. Immediately she covered her mouth with her hands and shut her eyes, for the fierce, throbbing pain was enough to make her feel nauseous. The dentist did not make her stand for several minutes, and then did so only reluctantly, as his next patient was intent on beating down the door if he did not send Jo away in short order.

There were several seats in the hallway outside, because the building had rooms for many purposes ranging to fencing to billiards, and it was not unusual for people to sit down and wait for their lesson or appointment to begin. Jo sank down into one of those chairs without even a glance around her, and seeing that there was blood on her hand, began to search for her handkerchief.

Then suddenly somebody else was there, pressing a fresh handkerchief in her hand.

"Jo?"

Jo looked up to see Laurie leaning over her, and straightened at once, thinking it was just her luck that she'd run into somebody on one of the rare occasions when she was trying to move in secret.

"Looks like you had a bad time of it in there," his voice so comically solicitous that it made poor Jo feel quite humiliated.

"Having a worse time of it out here." Jo mumbled, instantly regretting it, for he it seemed the sharpness of her words had cut him. She thought she should explain that she hadn't meant the insult, but all she could manage was a sort of groan.

"Press the handkerchief to your face now, or you'll get blood on your collar," Laurie said, more kindly than Jo had expected.

"Are you ready for me to walk you home?" He asked.

"Just wait a bit," said Jo, who was finding it desperately hard to get her bearings just then. She did not wait for him to answers, but leaned over with her head in her hands, aware of what a pitiful picture she must make, but unable to do anything about it.

She felt him touch her back, lightly at first, as if waiting for her to push him away. They sat like that for what must have been several minutes, his hand moving in the same firm circles that Jo imagined her mother's would, had she been smart and asked her to come along.

"Come on," he said finally, pulling her to the feet, and wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"It's my mouth. Nothing to do with walking," Jo pointed out, but she ruined her point rather effectively by putting her arm around his shoulders, because she _was _feeling dizzy no matter how much she didn't want to be.

"Knowing you, you _would_ get home on your own, if I left you to it." Laurie said, without loosening his hold on her.

Jo did not argue or say anything for the rest of the walk home, thinking that speaking was more discomfort than it was worth.

Laurie came to check on her the next day, and though he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at Jo's cheek, which had swollen up like that of a greedy chipmunk, he managed to maintain due solemnity.

"Oh, it's fine to laugh at it. It does look rather funny," Jo said as dismissively as she could. "Go on then."

To her surprise he didn't, but instead touched it very gently, which made Jo turn redder than any laughter on his part could have. She wondered what should put him in such a mood, when usually he enjoyed teasing her and plaguing her as much as she did him.

"You know," he said, "I don't know what possessed you to go and get a tooth pulled by yourself yesterday, but…"

"I don't know what possessed me either," Jo said, and she would have smiled, had the expression not still been uncomfortable.

"But," Laurie continued, "If you ever…well, if you ever need somebody, you _can_ ask me. I -"

"Don't worry," Jo said quickly, not wanting him to go on with such strange tenderness. "I'm not about to get myself into such a scrape again." She nodded as enthusiastically as she could, the pain in her mouth the only thing keeping her from babbling on until she found some suitable joke in the situation.

Laurie for his part just nodded. He never mentioned their trip home from the dentist to Jo again, and she certainly never brought it up. When dark times came, however, neither of them could forget Laurie's promise to Jo, and though Jo never put it into words as Laurie had, she resolved to be there for him as well.


	4. Byronic

Notes: Literaryfreak asked for Byronic Laurie, and here's my best effort at it. The conversation seems a bit far-fetched for Laurie and Jo at this stage in their game, but it was fun to write nonetheless.

-.-.

Four days until New York. Jo hoped that she was ready. It had been over a week since she had gone through her clothes, choosing the warmest and least ragged things she could find to fold away into her suitcases. Her writing was also well prepared - she'd read and reread all of her recent work, giving convenient endings to the pieces that she could, resolutely throwing away those that she deemed hopeless, and stowing what she hoped were her most promising works in progress away in her sewing bag. She'd all but memorized the short letter that Mrs. Kirke sent describing the girls who she would be teaching, and she was confident that she understood the train routes that she would undertake.

It wasn't Europe, and it wasn't a holiday. Jo suspected that it never would be for her. Nonetheless, it called to her as dreams of the coliseum and the Eiffel Tower once had. Jo wasn't sure if this was a sign that she was growing up, or if it merely meant that she was a coward who was running away from her best friend because he was becoming a man, and because he too had dreams.

"Are you going to tell him?" Beth asked. She was sitting beside Jo, working on some needlework by the light of a candle, while Jo lay staring up at the ceiling and thinking.

"At times I almost think you can read my mind," Jo said, leaning over to watch her sister work. There was something eerie about her in the gold half light of the room She seemed suddenly insubstantial, and Jo had to shake herself to force the thought from her mind. She had no right to start missing Beth before she'd even left, particularly not when she was leaving as much for Beth's sake as her own.

"Of course I can't do that," Beth said softly, smiling at her embroidery.

"But you always do seem to know just what I'm thinking," Jo persisted.

"Maybe I know what Laurie is thinking too then."

"Hmm?"

"I keep catching sight of his face in the window," Beth explained.

"That's probably my own fault," Jo sighed. "I encouraged it when he was young, and now he's decided it's reasonable to mope and spy whenever the mood strikes him. He must've arrived late from that school of his, and since his grandfather isn't about to allow him over here at eleven, he's going to stare and be foolish. It's good that I'm about to leave. You'll manage him so much better than I do."

"You keep saying that." Beth said.

"Because it's true!" was Jo's quick reply. She thought that Beth sounded listless, and she could hardly blame her, considering Laurie's bad behavior. She was ready to launch into a speech about how very worthy Beth was of Laurie's love, and about how it must come to be once she left, but Beth's eyes were fixed on the window and Jo could tell that she simply wasn't ready.

"I'll do my best, but you must know he'll miss you terribly."

"For a time, perhaps, but it'll do him good to be rid of me by and by."

Beth sighed, turning to her with a look which Jo could not understand, but which struck her as unaccountably sad.

_It's because she's in love, _Jo told herself, before rising to blow out the candle.

"Will you tell him tomorrow that you're leaving?" Asked Beth, as she lay down to bed.

"The day after. He'll be insufferable once he knows, and I'm not sure I can be as hard with him as I know I must."

.;.;.;.;

Morning came, and Jo was torn between running right over to the Laurence manner to find her friend, and making herself as scarce as possible, lest he find her. She just wanted to be happy with him for a day before she left him behind, but she knew as well as anyone else just how bad she was at keeping secrets.

In the end he made the choice for her, knocking on the door just as she was finishing her breakfast. She could hear him in the corridor talking with Beth, and she resisted the urge to go and join them. She stood up to clear the dishes from the table, thinking to make herself busy and give him some more time with her sister. She smiled, overhearing the cheerful descriptions of school life that he told Beth as she began to wash the dishes. He wanted him to continue, but soon enough he'd come to find her, as she knew he would. He sat down near the kitchen table, with the chair facing the wrong way so that he could lean his chin on the back of it and watch her.

"You needn't tell me about your week," said Jo, "for I've already heard everything."

"Eavesdropping, Josephine?"

"It's only fair, what with your peeping."

She turned from her work, wiping her hands on her apron before leaning back against the counter to watch him. He grinned at her.

"It's not that anybody minds, you know, but I don't know what you were hoping to see."

"You wouldn't. Anybody else could guess in an instant, but I don't suppose you ever will, 'till you can't help it." This was said with an air of smug melancholy that made Jo sigh.

"Why not just tell me, instead of speaking riddles?" Jo asked, instantly wishing that she hadn't. Given the circumstances, it struck her that Laurie telling her what was on his mind might well be the very last thing she wanted.

"I will, if you'll promise to listen," said Laurie with such earnestness that it almost made her shiver.

"If you've fallen in love with another silly girl at school, then I'm not interested," Jo said tightly.

"You say that as if I fall in love with a new girl each week."

"Don't you? There was… let's see… Lucy Morris, Lizzie Westerna, Mina Smith. See? That's three already, and if you need any proof that I've been you're best confidant through it all, I can list some more names for you."

"Play fair. They were over the course of three _years_, and you know that they meant nothing in comparison to my best confidant. Now are you ready for me to confide or not?"

There was a look in Laurie's eyes that Jo didn't like, something between hope and despair, and perhaps even hunger. It made her glad that her bags were packed, and her absence would soon cure him of whatever it was he felt for her.

"I haven't any time for confessions," Jo said, frowning at the floor. "Or games today, for that matter. I've a story to finish, and I've been putting it off every weekend, thanks to you. Why not talk it over with Beth?"

"You can't change the way I feel. Why don't you know that, Jo?"

"I _do _know that," Jo said, too quietly. "That's why I'm going - to write for the day, that is. Talking won't make any difference."

With that Jo retreated to her room, and locked the door. She couldn't have him following her today, not with her suitcases sitting in plain view besides the closet. Somehow, keeping it a secret from him made her feel as if she wasn't really leaving after all.


End file.
